Title: Undeserved

Author: ZombieJazz

Fandom: Law & Order: SVU

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Will (and his family) and Noah have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.

Summary: The bad hand Olivia's been dealt continues - this time with real implications for her son. She and Will, along with the help of her work colleagues, work at navigating the devastating news and the new developments it brings to their lives.

Author's Notes: If you haven't read my other Olivia/Will series, A Complicated State of Happiness, you might want to check it out to get some more background on Will's character, for this chapter, though most of it is self-explanatory and you'll likely be able to figure it out either way. This AU series is for SVU fans and readers who want Olivia to have something that resembles a more normal life outside of work and a family of her own - hopefully somewhat realistically within the canon of SVU. Her relationship with Elliot is that of partner and protective older brother and colleague. It won't devolve from that - they aren't ever going to get together in this series. If you're an E/O shipper, you likely won't enjoy these stories. The timeline is a little loose and since most of the stories ultimately takes place outside of the work environment, there aren't too many references to cases from the show. But this series would generally be starting in about Season 12/13 of the show. It assumes Elliot hasn't left SVU yet. Please let me know what you think and if you distribute elsewhere.

"Mom," he said, for the umpteenth time, "I really can manage the clean up."

She glanced up at him from the dishes again. "I just don't want you to have to worry about the dishes," she told him, still working at scrubbing the roasting pan.

"May," his father finally interjected. "I think he's trying to politely tell us that it's time to go."

He dropped his head a bit as his mother looked at him but kept on scouring.

"I just don't want you have to worry about anything else," she said.

"Mom, really, we're OK," he assured.

His mother had volunteered to scour and disinfect both of their apartments before they brought Noah home. He'd talked Olivia into agreeing. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Neither of them really wanted to pull themselves away from the hospital to have to deal with the cleaning and setting up of things for Noah to come home. It was just one more thing – really more like a hundred – that needed to be done and that their sleep deprived and emotionally fragile minds weren't up for.

So his mom, dragging along his father and a small tank-load of cleaning supplies, had arrived and taken over that task. He hadn't considered that it would creep over into her deciding they needed all the linens in both of their apartments washed, any laundry that was kicking around ironed, fresh groceries bought and enough food prepared and put into the freezer that he was sure they technically didn't have to worry about cooking for about two months. He didn't want to mention to her that Noah now didn't eat much and for what they did try to feed him had special dietary requirements, that Olivia ranged from being picky to basically eating like a policemen on the verge of having a heart attack on any given day, and that he mostly ate organic – if not basically pollotarian anymore. He actually just didn't want to explain to her what pollotarian was – or even give the impression that Liv might be on some sort of diet and not just picky as fuck – or he knew he'd never get her to leave and would have to endure lectures and pleading for them to eat, likely similar to what he and Olivia had been chanting at Noah over the last several weeks.

He knew his parents were really trying to help. Not just that – they were trying to understand. He knew it was hard for them. That this relationship he had with this woman and child didn't quite make sense to them. That his mother couldn't quite grasp that they weren't a couple and that his father had given him a brief but stern, "You don't fuck around with single mothers, son" lecture nearly two years ago when he'd brought Olivia and Noah to their home on the weekend. But he didn't know how to explain to them any of it in a way that their traditionalist and Catholic minds could grasp. Half the time he wasn't entirely sure how to explain it or define it to himself.

He did know that they did just want him to be happy – as much as he some times felt their disapproving gaze against his life choices, as much as he felt they were constantly measuring him against his brothers and their jobs and their picket-fence lives of beautiful wives, rambunctious kids and slobbering dogs in rundown, little fix-me-up two-storeys – with neighbourhood barbeques and baseball leagues and Monday night football at the local firefighters' pub. He wasn't his brothers.

And, he knew that they worried about him. They always had. Because he wasn't his brothers. He'd rather join the cross-country team than the hockey team. He didn't skip classes in high school or get caught in the back seat with a girl. He brought home As and didn't get detention – and he'd wanted to go away to university, not just end up at a community college. Not just that – but he hadn't been interested in keeping up the family tradition in terms of jobs, which was hard enough for them to wrap their heads around for some reason, but for his career to be in something as abstract as math. "What the hell are you going to do with that?" he remembered his dad asking when he got accepted into MIT.

Their worry had only increased as he moved away from the city for school. The period where he was dating Tessa and then got engaged – it was like relief washed over them. Finally something they were able to relate to, finally them feeling like he might be on a good and normal path. His mom had done her best to dote on Tessa – suddenly wanting to visit them in Cambridge and insisting he come home more often. Getting to help plan a wedding of her youngest son and speculating on when she'd be adding more grandchildren to her Christmas shopping list nearly left her giddy. But then the Attacks happened.

His parents didn't know how to deal with that. Some times he felt like they wanted him to feel things he didn't feel or react in ways he didn't feel like he needed to react – like they wanted to dictate his emotions and his grief. They thought he should come home – back to New York, back to Staten Island. It made him that much more adamant that he was going to stay in Boston; that that was what Tessa would've wanted, which he really didn't think was true, and that that was where his life was. Even though he now felt that his reasoning behind the stay was somewhat immature and irrationalized, he also knew it was likely best for him in the end. Coming back home and dealing with his family while he dealt with the loss of his wife under the grey of 9/11 and all that meant not just to him but what the national psyche was telling the country and the world to feel – he couldn't have handled it. He would've had to take on the grief of the city and the grief of his father and brothers who'd lost friends and colleagues and still shook with sadness and anger about it all.

Dealing with it all when he did come home years later had been challenging enough. He thought enough time had passed by, and that he'd grown well enough to be more mature, independent and his own man, that the idiosyncrasies of his family wouldn't get to him – and that they'd see the person he was and what he'd achieved in his career; be proud of their son working at NYU. But the teasing continued from his brothers, the gruffness of his father still barked at him, and his mother was still overbearing. Not to mention the whole community life back on the Island just seemed like it hadn't changed – he might as well have still been in high school most days. But now there was also that quiet simmer going on underneath. It was a community of first responders and there was the burden of loss there that he sometimes found overwhelming to be around. They wanted him to be one of them in his grief and his loss and he just couldn't be – didn't want to be.

So he'd endured it for as long as he could before declaring he just couldn't handle the commute to work and thought he'd be better of moving into Manhattan. His mother had balked at the idea and his brother had told him he was retarded – he was renting the loft about his garage for next to nothing, how much would he be spending to live in a cubicle in the city? He hadn't cared, though. He'd needed the hell out of there. He needed his space and to be able to find himself within what the city had become and had come to represent – to him, the nation, the world and the history book.

So again, his family worried. His mother worried about his safety, his father worried about his financial situation. His mother asked constantly if he'd started dating again and told him he was allowed and that Tessa wouldn't want him to spend his life alone. His father took several occasions to tell him he was allowed to take care of his "needs" but to just not be stupid about it. He might as well have been 16 and trying to find a date to homecoming.

He thought they might've been hopeful that he was venturing into their realm of normal again when he'd first told them he was going to bring "a friend" over for one of their bonfire cook-outs that seemed to happen every Saturday as the winter started to fade away each year. But that diminished when they realized that Olivia really did see him as just a friend – and that she was a single mother and a sex crimes detective. Everything about her initially challenged some of their values and their rigid perspective of what "normal" was.

Still, they'd also seen that her and Noah had been a part of his life for almost three years now. They were names they heard and faces they'd see several times each year. They'd grown to like Olivia and his mother would take the opportunity to dote on Noah like she would her other grandchildren. Even his brothers had begun to treat him more like one of the brood rather than some illegitimate child from some illegitimate relationship. Noah had had play dates with Rob's kids and they'd gotten together with his brothers' families for some of the things you'd expect families to do in the city – skating outdoors in the winter, heading up to the Bronx Zoo in the spring and spending a day on Coney Island in the summer. His family didn't understand their relationship – but they knew the two were important to him and none of them could imagine having a sick child, so they were trying.

Not only had his mother prepared both apartments for their return, but they'd arrived there in the afternoon to find a roast in the oven, a Welcome Home cake, some balloons and a wrapped gift for Noah – a birthday present a week late, now doubling as hospital release surprise.

Though, both he and Olivia were grateful for what they'd done, they'd been tired and had wanted to get Noah settled – and to privately share the joy of having him home and take some time to digest everything that had happened so far as they prepared for the next phase in the rings of purgatory they seemed to be travelling through.

Will had tried to gently suggest that they leave, but his mother would have none of it. Insisting that she'd finish cooking the meal for them and would do the clean up.

They'd then stayed for the meal and his mom had glowed as Noah wolfed down three helpings of mashed potatoes and gravy. Initially Olivia had just been thrilled he was eating anything – even though he only took a couple bites of the meat. He'd dug into a piece of the cake as well – demanding a corner piece with lots of icing. But as his mother had continued to chat at them and not pick up on hints or body language. Olivia had eventually excused herself and moved over to the couch with Noah and put on the first episode of the Star Wars DVD set that he'd received from them.

Will was a little disappointed that he wasn't getting to watch it with them – but had seen Olivia had literally put in Episode I, which he didn't much care to watch. He'd told her to put in Episode IV for Noah but she had made some a comment about that not making any sense and with his mother still yakking at him, he didn't attempt to explain anything that Liv would've shook her head at as being overly geeky and ridiculous. He was actually more jealous of the fact that the two of them were now fast asleep on the couch – and had been for nearly an hour now while he still worked on shooing his parents out the door.

"Com'on May," his father said. "We don't want to outstay our welcome. He's a grown man. He can handle washing a few pots."

His mother sighed dramatically and began to dry off her hands on a tea towel, before using it to wipe off the counter.

His father still had to put his hand on the small of her back and guide her towards the door.

He gave his mother a hug and kiss as she picked up her purse. "Thanks for everything, Mom, really, it helps a lot."

She sighed again. "I just hope it's enough to make things a bit easier for Olivia."

"It is," he assured her. "It's a great help."

His father had already opened the door to start pushing his mother out. He gave his son a firm handshake and one of the half-hug slaps on the back that Will always found a little more jarring than comforting.

"You need anything else, you call us," he told him sternly, "or your brothers. Same goes for Olivia. Anything."

He nodded. "We will."

He patted him on the shoulder. "OK, then, good man."

Will wondered if when he reached 40, he'd finally stop feeling like his father was treating him like he was about 12 years old. But somehow he doubted it.

He closed and dead-bolted the door behind them and let out such an audible sigh, his lips pursed as the air expelled from his lungs. He was exhausted. He hadn't even gone over to his apartment yet to scope things out. He actually felt like he hadn't been in it for weeks – and he really hadn't, other than to change and leave again.

He walked back into the living room and looked at Olivia and Noah. Noah was curled against his mother, his legs and arms going in all directions. Liv had her arm protectively wrapped around him – partially out of necessity to keep him from tumbling to the floor.

It was almost June 1 and it was already evident that it was going to be a hot New York summer and the building still had yet to switch on the air conditioning. But Noah was cold and even dressed in a hoodie with the hood up, Olivia had also wrapped the afghan around him.

He looked even smaller than usual on the couch. The hospital beds in the children's hospital were kid sized and had at times masked just how little and fragile Noah was. Now on the oversized couch and sleeping against his mother, it was apparent just how tiny and sick looking he'd become. But at least he was home – and he was in remission with his counts holding steady for the moment. They could start the consolidation phase of his treatment – and even as fucked up as it was to be happy about something like that, it was a source of joy for them right now.

He sat down at the far end of the couch and continued looking at them. It had likely been a mistake. Olivia was acutely aware of changes in her surroundings whether she was asleep or awake. She stirred and started to open her eyes.

He touched her foot. "It's OK, it's just me. Go back to sleep."

She stretched a bit and looked at Noah who hadn't moved a muscle. "Mmm," she yawned. "Are your parents gone?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She gave him a small smile. "God," she said.

He laughed. "I know."

Olivia knew his mother was a talker who didn't take no for an answer easily. But he also got from her body language at the supper table that she'd been unimpressed with the extended invasion of her personal space. He didn't blame her.

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour, you should go back to sleep," he told her.

She yawned again. "What are you going to do?"

"If you guys are OK here, I think I'm going to go to my place and lay down for a few hours too."

"Mmm," she put her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes again. "You should just go lay down in my bed. I'm going to stay here with him. It's nice."

"Maybe," he said but she didn't respond.

He sat watching her and Noah again for several minutes and then sighed and went back to the kitchen. He finished up the last couple pots his mother had left soaking in the sink and pulled the plug. He put both hands on the counter, watching the water cycle down the drain, deciding what he was going to do.

Shaking his head, he did walk down to her room. He thought it looked too clean and tidy for Olivia's bedroom and hoped his mother hadn't moved things around or nosed through her stuff too much or there would be hell to pay – and he'd likely end up taking the brunt of it. But it was nice and dark. He undid his belt and pushed off his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the ground, and pulled back the covers of the freshly made bed.

He remembered thinking that despite all his mother's cleaning, the pillow still smelled like Liv. But it was only a matter of moments before his mind just stopped and let him sleep – a real sleep, for the first time in a month.

I have several more chapters running around this general timeframe in the AU. Let me know if you want more. Feedback is always appreciated